Lights, Camera, Action!
by melissakay
Summary: Marshall's in love - but he's got one problem - how to get rid of Blaine so he can have Kurt all to himself? Simple - get the two to star in his short horror film! Contains drug references, violence and sex scenes. Part two coming soon.
1. Chapter 1

**Lights, Camera… Action!**

Part One

Marshall was finding the first semester at New York Academy of Dramatic Arts extremely challenging. Not only did his film teacher expect him to come up with a new short film every few weeks, but – as hard as it may have been for him to believe – he was actually missing his family. Homesickness wasn't something he expected. For the first week or so he actually revelled in being far away from his mother's unpredictable mental illness, which tended to turn the entire household upside-down. However, almost two months in, he had to admit that he was starting to miss her – along with his sister, Kate and his dad, of course. Talking to them via Skype just wasn't the same as being home among the chaos that was living with a person with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Only one thing made being away from home bearable, and that was a boy in one of his elective classes, a kid called Kurt who came all the way from Ohio to study musical theatre. It didn't take long for Marshall to develop a mad crush on Kurt – who was also gay, and a good deal more camp than even Marshall's former boyfriend, Lionel.

Before Marshall knew it he was looking forward to musical theatre class with a passion he'd never before felt for the genre. His style was more Quentin Tarantino meets Wes Craven; than Steven Sondheim! Still, he had to give Kurt credit – the guy was an _amazing_ performer. Just an absolute jaw-dropping talent; and _so_ cute, in his designer threads and quirky bow-ties!

Marshall sat watching the object of his affection perform Some People from Gypsy on the stage in the NYADA auditorium one day, when he had a brilliant idea. His film class had been set a new assignment – to produce an unsettling horror short, and he'd started writing the script the moment he got back to his dorm room. His screenplay was about a serial killer of course – Marshall was well aware that often the scariest movies are the ones about what ordinary people can do to each other. Forget vampires or sharks or ghosts. No, he, Marshall Gregson, was going to create the Ted Bundy for the 21st century! Anyhow, the bare bones of his plot required the casting of a sympathetic, pretty-boy victim, someone who the audience doesn't want to see strung up and gutted, simply because he's too hot to die! As Marshall watched Kurt sing that day, he _knew_ he had his victim. Now came the hard part – how to talk him into dying horribly, in a slasher flick?

'Hi,' said Marshall nervously, as he approached Kurt by the coffee machine in the cafeteria. 'Your name's Kurt, right? You're in my music theatre class.'

Kurt turned and smiled, and Marshall promptly forgot to breathe.

'Yeah – and you're Marshall. I saw your short film about the zombie apocalypse last month. _Amazing_ special effects! Especially when that guy chopped the zombie's head off with a shovel. That was my favourite part.'

'Uh… th-thanks,' stuttered Marshall. Get a grip, he told himself. He's gonna think you're a special needs kid if you can't retrieve your tongue from the floor! 'Um… you like acting, right?'

'Of course,' said Kurt. 'Hey… do you want to come and sit at my table? I'll introduce you to the gang.'

'Well I really…' Marshall started to say, but Kurt had already pressed the lid onto his cappuccino and had taken Marshall by the elbow, leading him toward a table by the window which was inhabited almost exclusively by their fellow musical theatre classmates.

'You guys all know Marshall? He's an aspiring film-maker, and he's _really_ good,' Kurt said, by way of introduction. The two guys and two girls nodded and smiled at him before resuming their conversation. Marshall was glad – he'd wanted nothing to distract him from his mission. Besides, sitting across a small table from Kurt was going to be nerve-wracking enough without an audience. Simply put, the guy was _gorgeous_. Marshall had to remind himself not to stare as Kurt opened his coffee, poured in a couple of packets of sugar, stirred then sucked the froth from the spoon, pulling it back through his full, pink lips in a way that made Marshall's groin ache. It was like watching gay porn in slow motion.

'You know… I've seen you a couple of times in musical theatre and I had to wonder… what's your angle?' Kurt asked. 'You're not a singer; I've _seen_ you dance… and going by the kind of movies you make, I don't think you're looking to become the next Andrew Lloyd Webber. Why did you pick musical theatre?'

Marshall shrugged. 'I don't know… I had to choose another elective, I guess. I'm majoring in film-making but I thought it would be good to get experience in another genre. Who knows, maybe one day I'll direct Dawn of the Dead meets Moulin Rouge.'

Kurt chuckled. 'Well, that would be… different. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you shouldn't be there, I was just curious.' He sipped his coffee, watching Marshall over the rim of his cup.

Marshall wilted under Kurt's intense scrutiny. Those big blue eyes could make you feel about three inches tall. And also rather sick and melty inside, at the same time!

'So what are you working on now?' Kurt was asking suddenly.

Ah, Marshall thought. Here's my window!

'I'm actually doing another horror film – a short – it's supposed to be about ten or fifteen minutes long, and I've already started writing the screenplay. It's about a serial killer who brutally murders gay couples making out at Lover's Lane.' Marshall said, aware that he was rambling, but unable to stop himself. 'Not that it's a statement against gays or anything – _I'm_ gay – I just thought it would make an interesting twist…'

'And… you want me to be in your film?' Kurt finished for him, tapping his chin with the back of the spoon, pensively.

'Uh… err… well, yeah.' stammered Marshall.

Kurt tilted his head to the side, looking at Marshall as if he were a new, confounding species. 'Wait… Are you _nervous_, talking to me? I don't bite, you know. Unless you want me to.'

Marshall felt his face grow hot at the thought. He's flirting with _me_? Maybe that's just what he does. Maybe I shouldn't think too much on it. He's probably got a boyfriend. Guys like him always do. So settle, Gretel, and for God's sake, be professional!

'I'm kidding,' Kurt said, with a grin. 'I do that, sometimes. I should warn you, I have a twisted sense of humour.'

'Oh that's okay,' said Marshall, not sure whether to feel glad or disappointed!

'Well anyway,' said Kurt, 'I'd be honoured to be in your movie. It's not exactly my genre, but it's all acting experience, right?'

Marshall beamed, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out with a sense of relief. The hard part was over.

Or so he thought.

'Lights, camera, action.'

Brett, a big guy with a lantern jaw and squinty eyes, approached Kurt's character, brandishing a large hunting knife. Kurt – or rather, Troy – winced and tried to struggle free of his bonds. But the ropes securing his wrists to the branch above his head were too tight, and he almost swung 90 degrees with the force required to loosen the knot. 'Please,' Kurt/Troy sobbed. 'What did I ever do to you?'

'You fags are a scourge on society,' spat Brett, whose character was a figure of nameless evil. 'You deserve to be ripped apart for the vile acts you commit together! You're an affront to God! Haven't you ever read Genesis? It was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!'

Kurt/Troy was crying now, and Marshall had to hold in a whoop of excitement at his inspired casting. The guy was _gold._ He could cry on cue, for one thing. But he'd also read the script. He knew what was coming and he'd still signed on.

Brett stepped forward and pressed the tip of the knife into the hollow between Kurt/Troy's collarbones. 'I could gut you like a fish,' was his line. 'Right in front of your boyfriend, here.'

Ah… and there was the problem, right there. Kurt's boyfriend, Blaine, sat on the ground, bound at the wrists and ankles, helpless to come to his lover's rescue – or rather, his character, Danny's lover's rescue. When he'd read the script and realised his character was part of a couple, Kurt had suggested involving his real-life love for the part. Marshall had nodded as nonchalantly as possible, trying hard not to show how he was dying inside. But when he'd met Blaine, he'd automatically seen what Kurt saw – the potential for a heroic twist in the plot. And still more eye-candy!

'Please,' Kurt/Troy whimpered. 'I don't want to die.'

Brett grabbed a fistful of Kurt's t-shirt and dug the tip of the knife in, tearing the fabric from neck to hem. Marshall, behind the camera, couldn't resist zooming in on Kurt's pale, half-naked torso. He'd run the lens up and down the length of his victim's smooth, lean body twice by the time he realised what he was doing!

'Cut!' he called. 'That was great, guys! Fantastic! Take a break.'

It might have been fantastic, he thought, but it's gonna require some editing!

Glad of his position behind the tripod, Marshall tried to think of the least sexy thing he could imagine. The front of his jeans was uncomfortably tight. And Blaine was looking up at him with something like suspicion in those hazel eyes of his. Marshall had tried to hide his infatuation from Kurt's boyfriend but the guy was super-possessive. Well, I would be too, he thought, if I had me some of _that_! I wouldn't want to share Kurt with anyone!

'I'm gonna go take a piss, guys,' Marshall announced, and stole away as quickly as he could. Finding a large tree with a thick trunk to hide behind, he screwed his eyes shut and willed his erection away. It was too risky to try and rub one out. He could get caught in the act, and _then_ how would he explain himself?

When he finally had himself under control, Marshall joined the others in the clearing. Kurt was still tied to the tree, Blaine was still sitting, tied up, on the forest floor, but Brett was nowhere to be seen.

'Where's Brett?'

'He said he was going to go and roll a blunt,' Blaine said, grinning. 'That's gonna make the rest of the movie interesting.'

Marshall groaned. 'As long as he doesn't forget his lines.'

'The way Brett smokes,' Kurt interjected, 'We'll be lucky if he comes back tonight, at all.'

'Great. That's just great,' Marshall frowned. 'How are we supposed to finish this without him?'

'Don't worry,' Blaine told him. 'He's a bit of a burnout but he's not a bad guy, really. He won't let you down.'

'That's a relief,' said Marshall, regretting his earlier uncharitable attitude toward Blaine. The guy _was_ pretty hot. And despite his hawk-like vigilance where Kurt was concerned, he was incredibly easy-going, even offering Marshall his thoughts on plot direction and dialogue. Maybe I'm not giving the guy a chance, Marshall thought, and resolved to be nicer.

'Marshall? This rope really _is_ kind of tight. Could you loosen it for me? I'm gonna have me a _bitch_ of a rope-burn tomorrow.' Kurt rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up. 'And I don't mean to complain, but I've had my arms above my head for almost an hour, now.'

'Okay… I'll untie you – but just for a while,' Marshall said, sighing. 'We've got to get more of this scene done before the sun goes down.'

'I know, and I _hate_ to mess with the continuity,' Kurt said, as Marshall stood as close as he dared and concentrated on picking at the knot above their heads. 'I'm just really, _really_ uncomfortable.'

_You're_ uncomfortable? Marshall thought, his face perilously close to Kurt's armpit. He could smell deodorant masking a light perspiration despite the cool evening breeze. He could see goose-bumps dimpling Kurt's pale flesh. The blue t-shirt hung from his shoulders like a limp, useless rag. Marshall resisted – but just barely - a compulsion to wind his arms around Kurt's lean body and hug those goose-bumps away. He had a feeling Blaine wouldn't appreciate his idea of chivalry!

'Are you okay, Marshall?' Kurt asked. Finally able to free himself of the rope and drop his arms, he rubbed his wrists, where raised red welts had appeared. 'If you don't mind me saying, you look a bit… freaked out.'

'I'm fine,' said Marshall, not able to meet Kurt's eyes. 'Really.'

He watched Kurt go over, sit beside Blaine and give his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. Turning his head away, he swallowed a bitter pill of jealousy and tried to focus on the job at hand. But it was hard to concentrate with those two making googly eyes at each other. Especially when he heard Blaine murmuring something along the lines of, "God you looked sexy tied up over there," at which Kurt giggled, flirtatiously. Marshall gritted his teeth and scratched at a mosquito bite on his neck. It was starting to get dark. If they didn't get more work done, they'd have to come back again tomorrow night. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, the opportunity to spend more time around a half-naked Kurt was too good to pass up. On the other, he didn't think he could take another moment of watching those two dancing around each other like a pair of beautiful, horny, gay peacocks. Life just wasn't fair.

'Marshall?'

He looked up. 'What?'

'Can I see what we've done so far? This camera has playback with full sound, right?' Kurt was on his feet and moving toward the tri-pod before Marshall could stop him. 'Don't worry – I'll put it back to where we left off.'

'He's kind of a perfectionist,' Blaine explained. 'You'll get used to it.'

Marshall bit his lip hard, as Kurt stood motionless, watching the footage they'd shot so far. There was little or no chance of his pervy camera work going un-noticed. He just hoped Kurt would keep the knowledge of Marshall's crush on him to himself. He didn't exactly look forward to facing the wrath of Blaine. Would he talk Kurt into walking out on the project, altogether?

'I… guess I have to learn to deal with demanding actors, sometime,' Marshall found himself saying. 'Kurt's actually pretty good. Its guys like Brett who disappear in the middle of shooting that piss me off.'

'Yeah – I wonder where he got to,' said Blaine, frowning, puzzled. 'I'd go search for him for you, but I'm kind of tied up, here.' He chuckled. 'Literally.'

'That's okay,' said Marshall. 'Thanks, anyway.'

Blaine shrugged. 'I wouldn't worry too much. He'll turn up eventually. More than likely, when his pot runs out.'

'Fucking stoners,' muttered Marshall.

Blaine laughed; then stopped as he caught the look on Kurt's face. 'Kurt, what's wrong?'

'Blaine, I need to talk to you.'

Oh God, here it comes, thought Marshall, miserably. I'm fucked. Why oh _why _couldn't I have kept my hormones in check? This movie is doomed. First Brett disappears and now this!

'Marshall… can we have a moment? Please?' Kurt asked, in his sweet, soft voice.

At least he doesn't look angry, thought Marshall. A little shell-shocked maybe, but then if _I_ knew my director had been zooming in on me shirtless, I'd be a little freaked out, too!

'Sure… I'll… I'll go look for Brett.'

Marshall dragged his butt off the ground and left the two lovebirds to their conversation, his gut in anxious knots. In no time, he found Brett's Kombie van on the side of the dirt road, seemingly abandoned, the passenger side window rolled halfway down. A glance in each tinted glass panel proved what Marshall already suspected. Brett wasn't there. Where the hell had he gotten to? Marshall hoped his villain wasn't so stoned he'd wandered off and got lost. The national park they were filming in had walking trails clearly marked, but Brett being Brett, he probably ignored those altogether. The guy _did_ kind of have a problem with any form of authority, or rules. Even following simple guidelines seemed to be a stretch for him.

'_Idiot,_' Marshall hissed to himself, kicking the Kombie's wheel rim in frustration. Only, if he was to be truly honest, he wasn't sure if he meant to insult Brett or himself!

Walking back to the clearing, Marshall realised he could hear voices. Ducking behind a tree, he listened as hard as he could. Blaine and Kurt were less than two metres away, and so engrossed in each other, they hadn't noticed his return. So they weren't being particularly careful about being overheard.

Kurt seemed agitated. 'I thought you couldn't stand the idea of me with another guy?'

'I can't…' said Blaine, 'I _adore_ you. You know that. But this would be different from cheating. It's consensual. And you _did_ promise you were going to make one of _my_ fantasies come true. Remember? After all, I _did_ dress up as Aladdin and rescue you from the lecherous clutches of Jafar. I don't know about you, but I felt kind of silly pretending to ride on a magic carpet. By my reckoning, you owe me one.'

'Hey, I made that promise _before_ I knew how depraved you are,' Kurt joked; then sighed. 'I know… I owe you. Big time. And Marshall _is_ really cute. I'm just not sure I can do this.'

Do _what_? Marshall thought, his heart in his mouth. Are they really talking about what I _think_ they're talking about? No… no way. They know I'm here, and they're staging the whole thing, hoping I'll get all worked up, so they can turn around and reject me. Well, if they want to play cruel mind games, _I'll_ show them I can prank with the best of them!

It had gone quiet, and Marshall wasn't sure he liked that, so he peered around the tree, only to find the boys kissing passionately. Despite his jealousy, which was by now burning a hole in his lower intestine, Marshall couldn't help but watch, fascinated, but appalled with himself at the same time. There was something about watching two guys making out that his ex-boyfriend, Lionel, used to find incredibly erotic, and Marshall was starting to see what all the fuss was about. But this was different to watching Lionel's extensive collection of gay porn. This was happening right in front of him.

'Kurt,' said Blaine, breaking away from their kiss, 'I don't mean to interrupt your heavy petting session, but you still haven't said whether you'll do it or not.'

Kurt removed his hand from between Blaine's thighs, reluctantly. 'All right. I'll do it. If it's all right by Marshall.'

Marshall wanted to jump out from behind the tree and declare himself ready, willing and _more _than able to go along with whatever their plan was, but his fear that this was all a trap was too fresh in his mind. He'd been burned before – once, even by his own mother. Or well… one of her alters, the supremely slutty T, who found his high school crush too hard to resist. Marshall had discovered them making out in the back shed. So he burned it down as a form of protest. Not with them in it, obviously, but at the time he'd been mad, and hurt enough that almost anything was possible.

He waited until the boys were kissing again before he decided to break up their little party.

'Hey, guys,' he said, pretending to stroll back to base like he'd been out for a walk to collect firewood. 'Don't mind me. I'm just gonna fiddle with the camera for a bit.'

And delete that last bit of footage that shows me checking out Kurt's form, Marshall decided. The sooner that little piece of cinematic smut was gone, the better!

'Hey Marshall,' said Blaine, 'Forget that, for a minute. Come and sit with us.'

Marshall sucked in a deep breath. Here it comes - the proverbial kick in the balls. Brace yourself. Or you _could_ just say no.

Yeah, thought Marshall, sarcastically. Like _that's_ gonna happen!

He approached Kurt and Blaine with a certain amount of apprehension. 'What… what's going on, guys?'

'Sit down,' Blaine urged. 'We just thought – since Brett was missing, and you obviously didn't find him; that maybe we could take up where we left off, tomorrow night. With the filming, I mean. It _is _kind of getting dark.'

.'So… you want to pack up and go home?'

Blaine nodded. 'But not just yet. Maybe we could… sit and talk for a while. Get to know each other better.'

Okay… that sounds safe, thought Marshall. I can do that.

'And maybe we could untie Blaine,' Kurt suggested, with a wink. 'As much as I'd like to keep him like this, so I can have my way with him, I have the welts to prove it's not comfortable.'

'And you say _I'm _depraved,' Blaine joked.

'Yeah well… What can I say? Your kinks are rubbing off on me. But I think silk scarves might be the better option.'

Marshall wished they'd stop talking about sex. It was giving him a serious case of the hots! Just the idea of Kurt tying him up and taking advantage of him made Marshall's penis stiffen reflexively. But it was Blaine Kurt wanted to ravish. He couldn't say he blamed his crush – Blaine was one hot piece, all right. He just envied the _hell_ out of him!

'Come on… Sit down,' urged Blaine.

Marshall realised belatedly that he was still standing, like a deer in headlights, in the middle of the clearing. He let out a shaky breath and joined them, crouching beside Blaine, and helped Kurt untie his boyfriend.

When that was done, Blaine turned to Marshall.

'Look… How do I say this? We _know_.'

Oh fuck. Kill me now, thought Marshall. 'Know what?' he said, feigning innocence.

'The way you feel about Kurt.'

'It's okay,' Kurt told him, with a smile he probably thought was reassuring. But nothing could reassure Marshall at that moment. He just wanted to sink into the earth, like one of those giant worms on Tremors, and never resurface. He'd never been so humiliated in his relatively short life.

'So… what does this mean? You guys aren't gonna pull out of the movie, are you? I mean, I _know_ I took advantage, and I'm gonna wipe that bit of footage, I swear. I knew it was wrong when I was doing it! I wouldn't blame you if you hated me…'

Marshall was so busy apologising he didn't register what was happening until Kurt's lips were on his, stopping his spiel in its tracks but sending his heart into a double, then triple staccato rhythm. Kurt, on all fours, leaning across his boyfriend, touched Marshall's cheek with his fingertips as he sucked his bottom lip, pulling on it gently, then letting go. Marshall closed his eyes and started kissing back, unable to believe this was happening. Until now, Lionel had been the sexiest boy he'd ever met, but both Kurt and Blaine blew his freaking mind. He was so turned on right then and there, he would have agreed to an orgy with a band of dwarves and a bearded lady, just to relieve the tension in his Calvin Klein's!

While Marshall and Kurt kissed mere inches away, Blaine got busy unzipping Marshall's pants. Feeling a cool, unfamiliar hand curl around his penis, Marshall had to stop and remember to breathe. Licking his lips, he struggled to keep his composure. Blaine's hand squeezed him gently, and Marshall wanted to bury his head against the boy's chest in surrender. But Kurt was still covering his face and neck with kisses, and Kurt was the one he ached for the most. The one he'd had countless sexy dreams about since he'd first walked into his musical theatre class and witnessed the guy's amazing dexterity with twin sai swords. Reaching out, Marshall's fingers delved into Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair, messing it up as Kurt's tongue flickered against his. A jolt of pleasure ran down his spine as he imagined that tongue in other places on his body. Blaine's hand was great – applying just the right amount of pressure, stroking his shaft one minute, cupping his balls the next. But it wasn't enough. Marshall's hand left Kurt's hair and travelled down to the neck of that now redundant t-shirt. He broke from their kiss and whispered, 'Take this off.'

Kurt obliged, and Marshall had to restrain himself from climbing over Blaine to get to the object of his lust. His mouth felt like the Sahara, and his erection strained like the Hulk against Blaine's firm grip. Eyes glazed, he took in the sight of a shirtless Kurt, committing it to memory. After all, he was going to have to erase or tape over the end of that scene in the movie. He'd promised as much. But that didn't mean he couldn't go over the image in his head, rewinding and pausing to his heart's content!

Blaine's hand left Marshall's pants and began to unbutton his shirt. A brief glance at Blaine told Marshall he wasn't the only one struggling to keep it together. Weird, he thought. He's actually turned on by watching his boyfriend with another guy? Whatever floats your boat, I guess! Or maybe he's just as into me as I am into Kurt? Seems unlikely, but oh well… You won't find _me_ complaining!

The evening was beginning to get cold, but neither one of the three boys noticed. Now that Marshall was in a similar state of undress as Kurt, they both helped Blaine off with his character's costume – a black t-shirt and faded pair of jeans. Rather subdued for Blaine's taste, but then he wasn't playing himself. Clothes strewn aside, Marshall and Blaine began to kiss and fondle each other while Kurt watched.

Marshall could barely contain himself any longer. The feel of Blaine's strong, lean body against his, the way his soft, sparse chest hair tickled Marshall's skin was almost too much. He felt like he was going into sensory overload – especially when Blaine stopped kissing him and stared into his eyes, as if asking a silent question. Do you want to?

Yes, Marshall wanted to say. Oh, _fuck_ yes! But all he could manage to do was nod his consent.

Almost before Marshall knew what was happening, he was the meat in a Klaine sandwich. Kurt ran a soft hand over Marshall's ribcage and hip from behind, pressing his lips against his shoulder-blade, leaning on his elbow to suck the tender skin on Marshall's neck. One hand wrapped itself around his penis and Marshall thought he was going to explode. Meantime, Blaine was working his way down Marshall's body, kissing every square inch available to him, with Marshall lying on his side. Kurt nibbled his earlobe and whispered, 'I'll be back,' turning away and leaving Marshall's entire back exposed to the elements. But he wasn't gone long. When he returned, he curled up behind Marshall again, and this time, he was completely naked. Kurt took one of Marshall's hands and guided it backward, over his hip, over the curve of Kurt's ass, and then between his legs.

Marshall groaned, feeling Kurt's penis against the palm of his hand. He loved the way it hardened perceptively when he squeezed, and marvelled at the sheer size of it. So it _was_ true – skinny guys with tight little asses had it all going on up front! Lionel had been just average, size-wise, but Kurt was… in a word, magnificent.

Marshall wanted so badly to turn and gaze upon his crush, but his penis was in Blaine's mouth, and it felt so incredible he didn't want to do anything to ruin the moment.

He heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing, and before he could process what was going on, Kurt was inside him.

Marshall exploded into Blaine's mouth almost immediately. His orgasm – building like a slow storm only seconds ago, had hit him with the force of the tornado in the Wizard of Oz. Gasping, he bent almost double, the pleasure gaining momentum as Blaine licked him clean; then becoming all-consuming when Kurt started moving inside him, gripping Marshall's hip as he slid out a little ways, then back in. Blaine kissed his way back up Marshall's body and let the boy bury his dark head against his chest as the tornado ripped through him, leaving him weak and trembling; and then it was over. He felt Kurt throb momentarily, and then slip out.

Rolling onto his back, Marshall gazed over at Kurt, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes were closed. His pale, smooth chest rose and fell as if he'd just run a race. Marshall leaned across and kissed Kurt just below the collarbone. He couldn't put into words how amazing he felt. How weak and excited – still – and hopelessly in love.

There was only one thing in his way. And no matter how good Blaine had made him feel only seconds ago, no matter how his smile, with those dimples, turned his knees to jelly, Marshall knew he had to be ruthless to get what he wanted. He had to come up with a plan – a deviously clever plan that would not implicate him, and would ultimately break those two up. And when they _did_ finally implode, Marshall planned to be right there, offering Kurt a shoulder to cry on. And a bed to lie in, of course!

'What the _fuck_?'

All three boys jumped up at the sound of Brett's voice. Kurt hastily pulled his jeans back on, forgetting his underwear in his hurry, and Blaine initially picked up the wrong t-shirt, before he realised it was the blue rag Kurt had been wearing. Marshall was the only one who remained where he was – mostly because his legs were still too weak to support him.

Brett, the crim-in-training whom Marshall had had to virtually bribe to appear in his film, sauntered over, reeking of marijuana.

'What's this, a fucking orgy?' he laughed. 'Jesus Christ, I go away for five minutes and all hell breaks loose.'

'You were gone longer than five minutes,' said Kurt, accusingly. 'We were about to go home without you.'

'And yet, you hung around and decided to have a party without me,' Brett joked. 'And thank fuck for that, 'cause I ain't no homo. So… are we doin' this movie thing, or what?'

'Tomorrow night,' said Marshall, finally finding the physical strength to retrieve and pull on his clothes. 'We'll finish this up tomorrow night. See you all here at four-thirty, sharp.' He stood up and collected his camera gear, slinging the leather strap of the bag over his shoulder and folding up the tripod. Kurt and Blaine seemed to be barely talking, not even to each other. There was an uncomfortable silence in the air, tension you could cut with a butter knife. Marshall turned away and followed Brett out of the clearing, tapping him on the shoulder when he was sure he was out of earshot of the others.

'Hey, wait up.'

Brett turned around. 'You're not gonna try any of your fag shit on me, are you? 'Cause I'll beat you to a pulp if you even look at me wrong.'

Marshall sighed. 'No, you moron! For starters, you're not my type.'

'Clearly,' Brett scoffed. 'What do you want, then?'

'I need you to help me with something.' Marshall replied. 'I'll make it worth your while.'

Brett leaned forward, suddenly all ears. 'What do you want me to do?'

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

'_Please_ don't hurt me.'

Brett narrowed his eyes, and held the knife to Kurt's throat.

'Now, that kind of defeats the purpose of tying you up here, doesn't it? Do you know why I torture people? Because I get off on it! And boy, am I going to make you scream like a girl.'

Kurt/Troy gasped as Brett moved the tip of the knife toward his left nipple and pressed down hard enough to draw blood.

'Aaargh! Brett; that _really_ hurt!'

'Cut!' called Marshall, half-heartedly. 'Pardon the pun,'

It had been part of his plan to have Brett pretend to go all BTK (bind, torture, kill) on Kurt, but he didn't expect to _like_ watching it. This movie was beginning to reveal a sadistic streak he didn't know he had in him. Or maybe he was subconsciously punishing Kurt for not talking to him all day. Since the events of the night before, Kurt and Blaine had gone out of their way to avoid him like the plague. He'd tried to sit with them in the cafeteria at lunch time, but they told him as nicely as they possibly could that they wanted some "alone time." What that was about, Marshall didn't know and didn't care to find out, unless their little threesome had caused some problems in their relationship already. Marshall could only hope that was the case.

Brett either hadn't heard him call "Cut" or was pretending not to, because he went right on slicing into Kurt's skin, while Blaine yelled at him to stop, and struggled to get free of the rope around his feet and wrists so he could go and help his boyfriend.

'You're only supposed to be acting, Brett,' Blaine cried. 'You're not supposed to actually _cut_ him!'

'Yeah… that'll be all, Brett.' Marshall added. 'Come on – we _know_ you're a big fan of method acting but this is no Scarface and you're no fucking De Niro, all right?'

'Fine,' said Brett, backing away reluctantly. 'Whatever.'

Kurt sighed so loudly with relief that Marshall could hear it from where he stood, behind the camera. Glancing into the viewfinder, he couldn't help but be impressed with the way his film was looking so far. Without sound, that is. Once he overdubbed the part where both Kurt and Blaine went out-of-character, he'd have a pretty decent looking horror film. But there was time enough for that.

'Okay… from the top,' Marshall instructed. 'And this time Brett, use the fucking _trick_ knife, like you're supposed to.'

Brett swapped weapons for the collapsible knife Marshall had found at The Prop Shop, and as soon as "Action" was called, started to go to town on Kurt (who, to his credit, was a great natural screamer!). While that was going down, Blaine/Danny finally managed to wriggle free of his bonds, and after a break to add more fake blood and wounds to Kurt with make-up, Blaine/Danny picked up a sharp stick and snuck up on Brett.

Marshall was particularly proud of this next special effect. He'd watched the extra features on a bunch of classic horror movies to see how they managed to get blood to squirt from an arterial wound, and had fashioned a device out of latex and surgical tubing, that when pressed would emit a similar looking effect. Crossing fingers of both hands, he prayed it would work, and called "Action."

Blaine charged at Brett, who was about to plunge the trick knife into Kurt's stomach, and stabbed him in the neck with the stick. Fake blood shot from the latex bladder on cue and Marshall only barely managed to stifle an excited "Yes!" – remembering just in time that the camera was rolling! Once Brett fell to the ground, holding his neck and making raspy sounds in his throat, Marshall called "Cut" again, and clapped loudly.

'You guys were brilliant! I can't believe how well that worked! This is gonna be so awesome.'

Brett stood up, dusted himself off and glared at Blaine. 'You could have been a _little_ less enthusiastic with that stick, man. That hurt like a _bitch_.'

Blaine, who was dabbing at Kurt's real wound with a hanky, turned and glared at Brett. 'Just call it payback for what you did to Kurt.'

'Hey, look…. I didn't really mean it. I was in the zone, you know? _You_ know I wasn't serious, right, Kurt?'

'Yeah… whatever,' said Kurt, who was still tied to the tree, covered in a mixture of fake and real blood. 'God, this fake blood stuff is _itchy!_'

Blaine grinned. 'I'll scratch for you, if you want.'

Marshall, still behind the camera, rolled his eyes; then shot a meaningful glance at his partner in crime. Time for phase two.

'Hey, Blaine…' said Brett, 'Can we talk?'

Blaine looked surprised, but shrugged, agreeably. 'Sure. Why not?'

He ignored a look from Kurt, and followed Brett away from the clearing. As soon as the two were out of sight, Marshall left his post, approaching Kurt with a sheepish expression.

'Sorry to put you through all this,' he said. 'But you've been _amazing_. This film would be nothing without you. Seriously.'

'Well, I hope so,' said Kurt. 'Considering that Brett scared the hell out of me for a minute, there! I thought I was in the hands of an actual psychopath when he started cutting on me for real.'

'Yeah… Sorry about that. I can't believe he did that either.' Marshall's eyes drifted to the two inch long laceration on Kurt's chest, which had already stopped bleeding, so it must not be as deep as it looked. But it still must have hurt. 'Does it hurt much?'

'It stings a little bit, but I'm okay,' said Kurt. 'I'm just a bit concerned about it getting infected.'

'Of course,' said Marshall. 'I've got a first aid kit in my car… how about I put some antiseptic on it?'

'It's fine, really,' Kurt said, 'Maybe later. We should get the rest of this movie done before it gets dark.'

'Thanks again for doing this.' Marshall said. 'And… For yesterday.'

'Yeah, that was… Wow,' whistled Kurt. 'I don't even know _what_ that was.'

It was freaking _amazing_, is what is was; Marshall thought, his brown eyes meeting Kurt's baby blue ones. The best day of my whole damn life!

'I just hope it hasn't caused any awkwardness between you and Blaine,' he said. 'I mean… you looked like you were deep in conversation at lunch today. Everything's all right between you guys, isn't it?'

'Of course,' said Kurt, managing a smile despite the ache that must have been setting into his arms by now, tied above his head like that. 'It was Blaine's idea, so he can't turn around and get jealous that we had sex. Or that I enjoyed it as much as I did.'

Marshall felt his stomach do somersaults. 'You did? Really?'

Kurt's cheeks turned a peachy pink colour. 'Yeah… I did. I… really like you, Marshall.'

'I really like you too, Kurt,' Marshall said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. 'I mean I… I think I'm in love with you.'

'Oh…' Kurt winced. 'Look, Marshall, you're a _really_ sweet guy, and we had fun, I won't deny that, but I love Blaine. And that's not going to change, just because we were… intimate.'

Marshall gulped. That was not what he wanted to hear!

'You can't do that to me – make me fall in love with you and then reject me! We shared something _special_ yesterday. I don't just do that with _anyone_.'

'Neither do I' said Kurt, looking concerned. 'Marshall… I'm not saying it didn't mean anything to me…'

'Aw, come on! You only did it to please Blaine. I heard you guys talking. It was just a game to you! You didn't care about my feelings, at all.' Marshall was aware he was starting to lose his shit, but he couldn't stop himself. Hurt and anger had taken over, and his plot to win Kurt was beginning to unravel with every word he spoke. He'd wanted to be seen as Kurt's hero, not his stalker. But it was all going horribly wrong. Problem was, he couldn't seem to stop digging his own grave, with every word that left his mouth.

'That's not true, Marshall,' pleaded Kurt. 'I _do_ care.'

'So what was I to you? A prop? A convenient third party for your little three-way fantasy? Or rather, Blaine's?' Marshall was beyond listening to anything Kurt had to say, now.

'Of course not.'

'Funny,' Marshall spat. 'I don't believe you.'

'Marshall…'

'You know what, Kurt? I feel _used_,' said Marshall, suddenly. 'So you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna use you right back.'

Kurt blinked. 'What?'

Marshall smiled, benevolently. 'You're not exactly in a position to resist me, are you?'

Kurt glanced over Marshall's shoulder, trying to see where Blaine and Brett had gone.

'Oh, if you're looking for Blaine, I paid Brett to beat the shit out of him,' said Marshall, casually. 'He's probably lying somewhere, out cold. One thing's for sure – he won't get here in time to stop me.'

'Marshall, you don't have to do this,' Kurt pleaded. 'Just know… I would totally be with you, if it wasn't for Blaine. I swear! But I can't just break up with him! I _love_ him!'

But Marshall had tuned out. His eyes travelled from Kurt's agonised expression to his blood and corn-syrup stained chest. And in a heartbeat, he was on Kurt, kissing him with fierce abandon, forcing his tongue between Kurt's lips, his hands holding Kurt's face in a vice-like grip. His hunger and anger combined to give him a strength he didn't know he had. He tasted salt and realised Kurt was crying. And realised something else – he didn't care. Running a hand down Kurt's body, Marshall unzipped his jeans and thrust a hand inside his underpants. Just as he'd suspected, Kurt was hard and ready for him. Marshall dropped to his knees and tried to take the entire length of Kurt's penis into his mouth, but he was either too big or Marshall's mouth was too small, because he began to gag almost immediately. Retreating, he closed his lips around the head of Kurt's penis, instead, slurping and sucking like it was a god-damned Chupa-Chup.

Despite himself, Kurt's sobs gave way to small sounds of pleasure, and his breathing to panting. Not wanting Kurt to have all the fun, Marshall stopped what he was doing and stood up, leaving Kurt unfulfilled. 'Feel used yet?' he asked Kurt. 'No? Well, what about this?' He circled Kurt's body like a buzzard looking for the meatiest part of the carcass, grabbed his hips from behind, and pulled down his jeans.

'Nice ass,' he whistled, appreciatively. 'I'm gonna _love_ fucking it like you fucked mine.'

'Marshall…'

'Yes?'

Kurt sighed in resignation. 'Just use protection.'


End file.
